


I Could Not Be At Rest

by protectginozasquad



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Daichi is a cop but is deciding to turn in his badge, M/M, Mental Hospital AU, Mental Illness, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectginozasquad/pseuds/protectginozasquad
Summary: Daichi doesn't feel like he can go on feeling this way. His friends have other ideas.In the hospital, he meets someone with similar struggles.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 47





	I Could Not Be At Rest

**Author's Note:**

> helloooooooo 
> 
> so i'm a big advocate of normalizing mental illness. it's my intention to treat this respectfully and delicately, while still portraying it realistically. i literally gave daichi some of my actual diagnoses, lol. i have a lot of familiarity with this subject matter, but everyone's experience is different and i want to acknowledge that! this is largely based on my personal experience with mental illness and also as someone who is in the field professionally (i am not a therapist but i am in a helping profession and my parents are both clinical psychologists). also, i know we think of daichi as a strong and stable character, but part of the goal is to show that even those kinds of people can have these struggles. 
> 
> also, it is not my intention to give the idea that a relationship can cure mental illness - it certainly can't. but my husband and i both have bipolar disorder and i know what it's like to have someone who understands/supports you even in the midst of struggles and that is more what i'm trying to portray here. 
> 
> anyway that was long but i hope you enjoy! stay safe.

“I d-don’t feel well,” the phone shook as Daichi held it up to his ear, hands shaking violently. 

“What kind of not feel well?” 

“I don’t know,” Daichi said quickly, chest constricting painfully. His heart was beating quickly. “Everything is so loud. It’s so bright. I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Do what?” Suga’s voice was tight on the other end of the line. Like he was calm, but just barely. Daichi couldn’t blame him. 

“Stay alive,” Daichi said quietly, looking at the bottles of pills he’d assembled on his coffee table. He glanced at his gun hung up by the door with his work uniform. “I c-can’t take it anymore.” 

“Daichi, do you need to go to the hospital?” 

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Daichi said quickly. 

“I know you’re scared, but if you can’t stay safe…” 

“I just can’t go on like this.” 

“It won’t always feel this way,” Suga said gently. 

“You don’t know that,” Daichi said, a tear leaking down his cheek. “Suga, I’m s-sorry. I can’t do it anymore. I wrote something for my mom. You’ll see that she gets it, right?” 

“Daichi,” Suga started to sound more panicked. “Do you have your gun?” 

“That doesn’t matter.” 

“It absolutely matters,” Suga said firmly, stress edging his voice. 

“It’s here.” 

“Are you home?” 

“Yeah. I hate this stupid apartment. I hate everything. I hate myself. I can’t do it.” 

“Did something happen?” Suga asked quietly. 

“No, just the same old shit. Can’t save people. Can’t help people.” 

“So something did happen at work?” 

“You’re not my therapist,” Daichi said, trying to filter the annoyance out of his tone. He didn’t want Suga to remember him being angry. 

“I’m your friend,” Suga said. “Friends listen to each other.” 

Daichi’s head snapped up as he heard sirens approaching. 

“Suga, why are there sirens headed in my direction?” 

“I think you’re just being paranoid, Daichi,” Suga said, sounding oddly relieved. 

“No, you didn’t,” Daichi ran a hand through his hair, a new round of the shakes racking him. “You couldn’t. We’ve been on the phone this whole time.” 

Suga sighed. 

“I’m sorry Daichi, it’s not your time to go. Not like this. I had Asahi call. I texted him while we’ve been talking.” 

“Dammit,” more tears leaked down Daichi’s cheeks. “Suga, you don’t understand.” 

“I know I don’t. But this isn’t how it ends for you. It can’t be.” 

A loud knock sounded on his door. 

“Daichi, let us in,” Ukai’s voice was tight. Daichi’s heart sank. 

“It’s my own fucking unit,” Daichi said bitterly, hanging up on Suga despite his protests and hanging his head, unable to do anything else. So it wouldn’t happen today. He would have to go on like this, at least a little while longer. 

“Daichi, please.” 

“It’s open,” he called in a defeated voice. 

“Thank god,” Ukai said as he opened the door, glancing around Daichi’s dirty apartment, eyes finding Daichi quickly. “Where’s your gun?” 

Daichi nodded to the coat rack next to the door. Ukai grabbed Daichi’s gun and handed it to a deputy before walking over to where Daichi sat on his couch, staring blankly into space. He hardly even registered it as Ukai sat down next to him. 

“The paramedics are on their way, Daichi,” Ukai said, an apologetic note to his voice. “They need to check you out.” His eyes stole over the array of pharmacy bottles on the coffee table. “What happened?” 

“Nothing happened. I haven’t done anything,” Daichi said, voice tight. He saw Ukai’s tense shoulders loosen slightly. “Suga doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

“Someone named Asahi made the call,” Ukai shrugged. “Sounds like Suga might know something useful. C’mon, kid. Let them check you out.” 

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Daichi said in a small voice. 

“There’s no shame in getting help. Don’t make them restrain you.” 

It didn’t take long for the paramedics to arrive. They were right behind the cops. It was always a shame, Daichi thought. He’d been on the other side of this situation countless times before. These people didn’t know how to care for this kind of crisis. 

“I don’t have a plan,” he lied desperately to the paramedic who was taking his pulse. 

“You don’t call that a plan?” The paramedic motioned to the bottles on the table. “You know we can’t leave you here like this.” 

“I promise, I can stay safe.” 

“That’s not the report we got. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. It’s always better to go voluntarily.” 

Daichi glanced up at Ukai, who was leaning tensely against the wall by the door. Daichi sighed. It wasn’t like he had the energy to argue. He’d used up all the energy he had getting the pills together, writing the note to his mother. He didn’t have anything left. 

“Do I have to go in the ambulance?” He said, looking down at his hands. 

“Just let them take ya, kid,” Ukai spoke up from his place near the door. 

Daichi swallowed, tears springing into his eyes. 

“Alright. I’ll go.” 

He followed the paramedics out of his apartment, not bothering to take anything except his phone, which he assumed they would take from him once he got to the hospital. He didn’t care. He felt like he was underwater, like he was hollow. How could someone feel so empty and hurt so much at the same time? 

He was vaguely aware of being handed a pill and some water. 

“It’ll help that heart of yours calm down a bit,” the paramedic said kindly. “It’s working much too hard.” 

The ride to the hospital was short and unpleasant. The sirens were so loud, the questions so oppressive.

“Yes, fine, I was going to hurt myself,” Daichi finally snapped at the paramedic. “Is that what you want to hear?” 

“Of course not,” the paramedic still had a gentle look on his face in spite of Daichi’s obvious frustration. If he had been able to feel more things, he might have felt bad for snapping. “But it is better to tell the truth. Tell them that at the emergency room. Please.” 

Daichi fussed with the hem of his shirt, feeling like he didn’t know how to face anyone, even these strangers. How on earth was he going to face Suga and Asahi? 

“Okay,” he said, feeling like the vast ocean of darkness was swallowing him, even though he was still alive. 

Suga and Asahi both came to the emergency room, but Daichi asked to be left alone. He could hear the nurse talking to them apologetically. He felt bad, he really did. He felt worse than anyone should ever have to feel. But he couldn’t let them see him like this, broken and afraid. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as the nurse came back into the room. 

“They’re gone, Sawamura-san,” she said gently. “But you should let them visit you once you’re settled.” 

“Settled?” Daichi asked. 

She sighed. 

“We’re sending you up to the psychiatric unit. You’ll likely be there for at least a few days.” 

“But I have work-” 

“Work won’t happen if you can’t keep yourself alive,” she said, her voice more pleasant than Daichi would have thought. “Your commanding officer said he’d take care of it,” she added. “You should be grateful. You have people in your life who care.” 

Daichi knew he should be grateful. But he couldn’t feel gratitude. He couldn’t feel anything except empty. 

“When do I head up there?” 

“As soon as the doctor signs off on the paperwork. Within the hour,” she said. 

Daichi looked at his hands, felt the tears mist over his eyes again, and for the first time, he let himself cry. 

+++ 

“Sawamura-san,” the doctor tapped his clipboard. “My name is Dr. Takeda, and I’ll be your psychiatrist for the duration of your stay.” 

“I feel fine, doc,” Daichi said, maybe a little too desperate. 

“Hmm, the paramedics say they found quite an impressive stockpile of pills on your coffee table,” Dr. Takeda said lightly. “I’m afraid I might not quite agree with your self-report. Seems you told a friend - Sugawara Koushi - that you didn’t feel like you could stay alive. Now,” he sat down heavily in the chair next to Daichi’s bed, sighing. “It’s not my intention to say you’re deceiving me. But especially men in your line of work tend to… downplay their symptoms. You know you’re sick, don’t you? This is not a personal failing. You’re simply unwell and we need to get you feeling better.” 

Daichi looked away, fiddling with the sheets on the bed. 

“How long do I have to be here?” 

“It’s difficult to say at the moment, but you’re certainly in need of a medication adjustment. It looks like you’re under the care of a nurse practitioner but she says she hasn’t seen you in months. Have you been taking your medication?” 

Daichi mumbled something incoherent about not needing it. 

“I see,” Dr. Takeda said as though he had heard whatever incomprehensible murmuring Daichi had done. “Well, the stockpile makes sense then. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to get you adjusted to your medication again. The paramedics gave you some Xanax on the way over, which should have you feeling calmer. Your heart was working overtime. A panic attack, perhaps?”

“Yeah, I get those sometimes,” Daichi said quietly. 

“Looks like you’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, type 2. Does that sound right?” 

Daichi sighed. 

“Couldn’t be type 1, could it? Might’ve gotten up some more energy. I might have actually done it,” he tried to crack a smile, but it came out much sadder than he intended it to. 

“Actually, type 2 patients are at a higher risk of dying by suicide,” Dr. Takeda said matter-of-factly. “As you tend to experience more depressive or mixed episodes and you don’t have full-blown manic episodes. Not to say that those with type 1 aren’t at risk, but what I’m saying is your suicidal ideation is not out of place,” Dr. Takeda sighed. “And we’re all glad you didn’t do it,” he added gently. 

Daichi didn’t say anything. 

“I see generalized anxiety disorder is also in your chart.” 

Daichi nodded. 

“Yeah, they say that’s why the panic thing happens.” 

“Can you tell me how you were feeling before the paramedics got there?” 

“Other than not wanting to be alive?” The words were out of Daichi’s mouth before he could stop them. He looked away from Dr. Takeda. 

“Ah, honesty is always the best possibility, Sawamura-san,” Dr. Takeda said gently. “So that’s good. Tell me more.” 

“J-just wasn’t a good day,” Daichi’s voice shook. “Had a bad shift at work the night before.” 

“What happened?” 

Daichi felt himself ache just thinking about it. 

“Domestic violence dispute. Or that’s what the call came in for. A neighbor called it in. But by the time we got there they both denied everything. I could see how scared she was. And I couldn’t do anything for her.” 

He looked up. 

“I became a cop to protect people, but it isn’t like that.” 

“No?” Dr. Takeda asked with interest. 

“No,” Daichi looked at him. “Mostly I feel like I just arrest people for being poor. I’ve been thinking about turning my badge in.” 

“How long have you been thinking about that?” 

Daichi shrugged. 

“A while now. Six months or so.” 

“Do you think that has anything to do with this recent episode?” 

“Wouldn’t someone normally feel shitty if this is how their dream career turned out?” Daichi choked on the words a little. His feelings about his job were like an itch he constantly tried not to scratch. 

“Of course,” Dr. Takeda said softly. “But not enough to hurt themselves. Not unless something else was going on. You’ve had your diagnosis for a while now it seems. Surely you knew something wasn’t right.” 

“I dunno, doc,” Daichi said with a shrug. “I honestly think I’d be pretty useless at doing anything else, and I hate what I’m doing.” 

“Useless is an interesting word.” 

Daichi blinked at him, unsure how to respond. 

“What I mean is,” Dr. Takeda continued. “That’s a self-assessment. An incorrect one. No one has only one aptitude. Why do you think useless is a word that you use to describe yourself?” 

Daichi could almost hear his father yelling in the background. Useless. Helpless. Worthless. But he shook his head. 

“Not sure, doc,” he said quietly. 

“Well, I’m going to leave you to think on that. We’re restarting your mood stabilizer and keeping you on the Xanax for now while you get evened out. I think you’re in the middle of a mixed episode. You know what that means, right?” 

Daichi nodded. “Hypomanic and depressed at the same time.” 

“Precisely. It’s the most dangerous kind of episode for you.” 

“I don’t feel hypomanic anymore,” Daichi said. 

“Just depressed?” 

Daichi nodded. 

“We need to get you leveled out before we even think about sending you home. Please, take the medicine. We’ll have group activities in a few hours, I really think it would be helpful for you to participate if you’re not too tired. I know it’s been quite a day for you.” 

Daichi sighed. 

“All right.” 

+++ 

“You’re new.” 

It took Daichi a moment to realize that the statement from his neighbor was directed at him. He was sitting at a table full of activities he was supposed to be doing, but all he had done was fiddle with the sleeves on his shirt. He’d come because he was expected to, and Daichi always did what was expected of him. 

“Are you talking to me?” He said wearily, not looking forward to making conversation. 

“Of course I am,” the man next to him said brightly. “We’re the only two at this table.” He rolled his eyes. 

His eyes were what caught Daichi’s attention. Golden, burning bright - he recognized that burning. _Mania. Probably bipolar type 1._ The next thing he noticed was his unkempt hair. It could just be the hospital life - not showering as often as you’re used to, but one half of it hung over his eyes and the other stuck straight up. 

“Does your hair always look like that?” Daichi asked before thinking better of it. Xanax certainly took the edge off enough to make him say whatever was on his mind. 

His neighbor’s eyes widened and then he burst into a fit of laughter. A much more intense fit of laughter than Daichi thought his comment warranted. 

“Man, that’s rude,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“It wasn’t that funny,” Daichi grumbled, feeling a bit put on the spot. “Didn’t mean to be rude,” he added, looking away. 

“Aw, don’t be like that! My name’s Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou. What’s yours?” 

Daichi looked back up, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Sawamura Daichi,” he finally said, realizing there was no point in trying to preserve anonymity or dignity here. It was the psychiatric unit, after all. 

“Sawamura Daichi,” the man - Kuroo - repeated slowly, as if trying the name on for size. 

“Uh huh,” Daichi said quietly, appraising Kuroo quickly. The burning eyes and wild hair aside, he was tall, lanky, and looked like he didn’t eat enough. His smile seemed to be curved into a permanent smirk, although Daichi wondered if that had something to do with the mania. 

“Bipolar, right?” Daichi asked when Kuroo didn’t say anything. 

Kuroo’s eyes widened. “Is it that obvious?” He said, looking a little crestfallen. 

It was Daichi’s turn to crack a small smile. 

“Nah, I have it too,” he said, a little softer than he meant. 

“Oh. Oh!” Kuroo perked up. “Nice.” 

“I don’t know that there’s much that’s nice about it,” Daichi said with a frown, ignoring the fact that the empty hole in his chest had stopped aching quite so badly since he started talking to Kuroo. 

“I suppose you’re right, or we wouldn’t be here,” Kuroo commented. “So, what did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Daichi said with a hint of annoyance. 

That’s when Daichi saw the bandages on Kuroo’s wrist. His heart did a funny twist. Kuroo obviously caught him looking, because he quickly pulled the sleeves of his shirt down over the bandages, but didn’t say anything. 

“I mean,” Daichi cleared his throat. “I hadn’t done anything yet,” he admitted. It felt good to say it out loud. It surprised him. 

“So you were gonna do something?” Kuroo said, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re nosy,” Daichi muttered. 

“You got something better to talk about?” 

Daichi sighed. “Not really.” He paused. “I’d been saving up my pills for a while. I have a gun, too. But I didn’t want anyone finding me like that. That would have been too much for someone. I didn’t want that.” 

“Either way, you’d have been equally dead,” Kuroo said bluntly. Daichi locked eyes with Kuroo. He looked serious. 

“I guess so,” he said with a shrug. “That looks like it hurts,” he said, softening his tone a little bit as he motioned to Kuroo’s wrist. 

“Ah,” Kuroo said, the manic energy still burning bright in his eyes, but flickering just enough for Daichi to notice. “Not so much anymore. It did at first.” 

“Someone catch you?” Daichi asked quietly, like he was sharing a secret. In a way, he was. He knew what it was like to be interrupted when you’re trying to die. This was his first time being intaken to the hospital, but the truth was, it had happened before. 

Before Daichi was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, he’d been misdiagnosed with major depression and put on antidepressant. It did not go well. He’d ended up in the hospital, a hive of pills buzzing in his stomach, given activated charcoal to puke them up, and told he certainly didn’t have major depression. Because they thought the attempt was due to a medication problem, he didn’t have to stay at the hospital. 

“Yeah, my friend,” Kuroo started fidgeting with his bandage. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Daichi said. 

“It’s fine,” Kuroo said, looking away from Daichi and surveying the activity room. “My roommate Kenma found me. He was supposed to be out of town, visiting his boyfriend. Turned out boyfriend had decided to surprise him by visiting him. So they both found me in our apartment. I feel terrible.” He stopped fidgeting and stared at his wrist. “I guess I never thought about what that would be like for him.” 

“I’m sure he understands,” Daichi said after a pause. 

Kuroo laughed derisively. 

“He said if I ever did that again he’d kill me himself,” he barked out a laugh. “What a funny thing to say to someone who wants to die.” 

“Do you still want to?” Daichi asked, voice still low. 

Kuroo ran a hand through his hair. 

“I dunno,” he said. “I kinda bounced back, ya know?” 

“Too much bounce?” Daichi asked, thinking of the inevitable yo-yo bipolar disorder brought with it. 

“Ah, maybe,” Kuroo said. “They keep feeding me benzos to bring me down,” he looked at the clock. “It’s probably about time for my next dose. You on meds?” 

Daichi snorted. “I certainly am now.” 

“Oh?” Kuroo looked at him curiously. 

“I don’t think you can be here and not be on meds. Abilify and Xanax I think is all they have me on right now,” Daichi said with a shrug. 

“The doc kept upping my Lamictal,” Kuroo said. “But they have me on something else now. Can’t remember the name. They say I’m ‘med resistant,’ or whatever.” 

“Lamictal tastes like shit,” Daichi stuck his tongue out, remembering the way that particular mood stabilizer burned his throat. 

Kuroo laughed again, and suddenly clapped Daichi on the back, a little harder than was probably necessary. 

“You’re funny!” He said, looking delighted. “So how’d you get here? You said you’d been stockpiling.” 

“I wasn’t careful,” Daichi said softly, thinking a bit about how death still sounded like home. “I told a friend too much.” 

“Ah. Friend-kun called the cops?” 

Daichi felt like he’d been punched. “Yeah…” He trailed off, wondering what his next steps would be when he got out. If he would turn in his badge. He liked working for Ukai, he really did. But especially after this, not only was he unhappy in his career, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to face his squad again. He vaguely noted that he was thinking about the future again, despite the call of the darkness. 

“Man, that’s no good. Since I was having a, um, medical problem, they didn’t send the cops. Just the paramedics.” 

“Glad to see you two are getting along,” Dr. Takeda walked up to their table. 

“I haven’t done any of the activities,” Daichi said apologetically, gesturing to the table full of coloring pages and journaling prompts. He felt a little bit like he’d been sent to a children’s daycare center by accident. 

“Don’t worry about it, just making conversation is enough work. Kuroo-san,” he turned to Kuroo. “It’s time for your next dose. Let’s go back to your room and chat about how you’re feeling.” 

Kuroo surprised Daichi by patting him awkwardly on the head as he stood up. 

“Well, see ya around,” he said with a smile. 

Daichi wasn’t aware that he was blushing until Dr. Takeda and Kuroo were almost out the door. 

“See you…” he said quietly to no one in particular. 

Then it hit him, out of the blue, that he was looking forward to seeing Kuroo again. He hadn’t looked forward to anything in a long time. The thought made him blush even more, and he was glad no one was paying him any attention. 

After a few minutes of sitting at the activities table, still not feeling up to working on anything, he went back to his room and got in his bed. He could see from his window that dusk was falling over the city, and exhaustion was starting to wash over him. The black hole in his chest that had briefly subsided opened up again, and depression started eating away at him again. He climbed into bed and laid down, tiredness outweighing the sadness, at least for now. At some point, a nurse came in to deliver another dose of Xanax. He felt the familiar disdain for the pill as he swallowed it, thinking of how ridiculous it was that he needed medicine to keep him alive. 

An illness, Dr. Takeda had said. Daichi had a hard time accepting it, even now, after all this time. He thought vaguely that maybe it was time he finally just accepted that he was sick, and nothing was going to change that. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t ever have to come back to this sterile, lifeless place. 

After a few minutes, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

+++ 

“Not letting us see you in the emergency room was cruel and unusual punishment,” Suga said, frowning. “I know you were mad but that was cruel.” 

“I wasn’t mad,” Daichi said wearily, looking at his two friends. It was visiting hours on the psychiatric floor and he’d agreed to see Suga and Asahi. He’d slept through the night for the first time in months, and somehow still awoken feeling tired. That was depression for you. Nevertheless, he was grateful to see his two friends. 

“No?” Suga raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t think I had the energy to be mad,” Daichi said sadly. “Maybe I’ll be mad when I get better. But you saved me,” he tried for a small smile, though it didn’t feel genuine. “And I should be thankful for that.” 

Asahi, who had been shifting uncomfortably in his seat, visibly relaxed. 

“I guess I’ll be relieved even if you’re mad,” he said quietly. 

Daichi sighed and didn’t say anything. 

“How is it?” Suga asked. 

“How’s what?” 

“Being here.” 

“Oh,” Daichi said. “It’s fine. It’s kind of boring. They took my phone. I feel like all I do is drink decaf coffee and talk with…” 

“With?” Suga prodded. 

Daichi cleared his throat. “With the other patients.” 

As if on cue, Kuroo came careening through the door to the visiting room. 

“Oi! Sawamura! There you are! I looked everywhere for you,” he said brightly. 

Daichi turned and glared a little bit, using a hand to indicate his two friends. _Manic,_ he thought firmly. _It doesn’t have anything to do with you._ Kuroo had come to find him that morning and insisted they eat breakfast at the same table, talking at a rapid pace that Daichi’s depressed brain couldn’t keep up with. Oddly, he felt somewhat comforted listening to Kuroo’s manic babbling. It was interesting, and Kuroo didn’t seem to mind that Daichi tuned out from time to time. 

“Sorry,” Kuroo said, although he didn’t look sorry in the least. “Are you guys lucky enough to be friends of Sawamura?” 

Daichi snuck a glance at Suga. His raised eyebrow had practically disappeared into his hairline. 

“Oh yes, very lucky,” Suga said, grinning. Asahi elbowed him lightly. “Ow, what?” 

“You know what,” Asahi muttered. 

Kuroo watched the exchange with obvious fascination, eyes finally settling on Daichi again. 

“Well, have fun,” he said with a wink and turned to head back to the common area. 

“Who is that?” Suga asked when Kuroo was clearly out of earshot. 

“I’m in the hospital,” Daichi said flatly, ignoring the question. 

“And?” Suga’s expression turned innocent. 

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” Daichi wagged a finger at him. 

“Suga,” Asahi said imploringly. 

“Fine, fine,” Suga waved a hand. “No trying to get Daichi set up with a handsome stranger who can probably relate to you better than either of us ever will and who will probably understand your struggles and accept you for who you are. Gee, that sounds terrible.” He rolled his eyes. 

Daichi rolled his eyes right back. 

“How do you feel, Daichi?” Asahi, bless him, decided to steer the conversation back to where it was supposed to be. 

“Dunno,” Daichi said, looking at his two friends. “I talked to the psychiatrist about turning in my badge. But I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know what else I’ll do.” 

Neither of them looked surprised in the slightest, in fact, they looked a little relieved. 

“What?” 

“You’re talking about the future again,” Suga said, voice soft, all traces of teasing gone. “That’s a good sign.” 

“Maybe, but I still just feel empty when I think about it. Like I can’t imagine it being good,” he shrugged. “It’s stupid, I know.” 

“It’s not stupid, Daichi,” Asahi said firmly. 

“Even if you can’t imagine it being good, you can imagine it?” Suga asked, voice still gentle. 

“I guess,” Daichi said with a shrug. “I feel a little like I’m in the Xanax cloud most of the time, so things feel pretty fuzzy. So I’m not sure I can think of anything very clearly.” 

“Fuzzy ideas are better than no ideas,” Suga smiled. “I’m glad.” 

“Anyway, I think I’ll be here for a little while. They say I have to get readjusted.” 

“Readjusted?” 

Daichi looked at the table, mumbling, “I had stopped taking my medication.” 

Suga put a hand on Daichi’s shoulder. 

“Don’t look so glum. We knew.” 

“You knew?” 

“The stockpile on the coffee table was kind of a giveaway,” Asahi answered. 

“Ah,” Daichi ran a hand through his hair, guilt eating away at him. “I n-never meant to hurt anyone.” 

“You didn’t hurt us, Daichi,” Suga was firm. “It would’ve hurt if you’d done it. But you know, you kind of saved yourself?” 

Daichi tilted his head to the side, confused. Suga sighed. 

“You called me, after all. You didn’t have to do that. You could’ve just stayed at your apartment and done it without reaching out. You saved yourself.” 

Daichi hadn’t thought of it that way. 

“I just wanted to say g-goodbye,” a lump rose in his throat. 

“All I’m saying is you’re not a passive participant in your life,” Suga said. Asahi nodded in agreement. 

“Your master’s in counseling program is still going well?” Daichi tried for a wry smile, satisfied when Suga flushed a little. 

“It’s not like that,” Suga protested. “You’re my friend, not my patient.” 

“I guess I should be lucky I have a therapist for a friend,” Daichi said with a shrug. He turned to Asahi. “I’m sorry you had to call,” he looked down at his hands again. “I never meant to put you in that position.” 

“Daichi,” Asahi said. “We understand.” He glanced at Suga. “I mean, we don’t fully understand, but this is part of the deal. We accepted that a long time ago.” 

“What a bummer of a friend I must be,” Daichi said before he could think better of it. 

“You’re not a bummer,” Suga countered. “You have a chronic illness that has to be managed.” 

“Therapist Suga strikes again,” Daichi said, trying for a playful tone in spite of the heaviness in his chest. 

Dr. Takeda tapped his clipboard from the door of the visiting room. 

“Excuse me,” he said to the room at large. “Visiting hours will be over in approximately five minutes. That’s all.” He glanced at Daichi and gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you all back in the common area in a few minutes. Thank you, friends and family, for visiting.” 

“I guess we should go,” Asahi said as Dr. Takeda left the room. 

“Thanks for coming,” Daichi said. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Of course we did,” Suga rolled his eyes. “You should go find your… friend,” he placed an emphasis on the word ‘friend’ and Daichi scowled at him. 

“I told you not to get any funny ideas.” 

“I’m just relieved to see you making friends is all,” Suga said innocently. Asahi elbowed him again. “Ow!” 

“Let’s go,” Asahi tugged at Suga’s sweater. “We’ll see you soon, okay?” He said to Daichi. 

Daichi gave them a small smile, and it felt more genuine this time. 

“Okay,” he said, standing up from the table and heading back into the common area. “See you,” he looked back over his shoulder and waved. If he wasn’t mistaken, Suga’s eyes were a little glossy. He sighed, and tried to ignore the guilt that twisted uncomfortably in his stomach. 

He walked back into the common room, and was surprised to be immediately grabbed by the arm and pulled into one of the many chairs. Of course, the person who grabbed him was Kuroo. 

“You’re back!” Kuroo said brightly. 

Daichi rubbed the back of his neck. “Y-yeah.” 

“Well, I missed you.” 

“I saw you half an hour ago,” Daichi said without any real bite, surprised by Kuroo’s sincerity and honesty.

“And a grueling and cruel half an hour it was,” Kuroo said seriously. 

“Can I ask you something?” Daichi blurted suddenly. 

Kuroo blinked at him. “Of course,” he said after a pause. 

“You don’t even know me. Why do you want to hang out with me?” It came out much sadder than Daichi intended it to. 

Kuroo looked at him for a long moment before shrugging. 

“Just got a feeling about you.” 

“A feeling,” Daichi repeated a little wistfully. “What’s that like?” 

“Mmm,” Kuroo hummed. “I suspect you know what it’s like. It’s just hard to remember when you’re low.” 

Daichi paused. “You’re not wrong.” 

“Of course not. I’m a genius!” Kuroo barked, laughing. 

_That’s right,_ Daichi reminded himself. _He’s manic. He’s going to latch onto someone. It doesn’t have anything to do with you._

But another look into Kuroo’s bright, burning eyes gave Daichi just a little bit of hope. Maybe he’d be able to feel something that wasn’t depression again someday. 

Maybe he actually was where he needed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> titles (fic and chapter) will probably mostly be from "i want to be well" by sufjan stevens


End file.
